


The Art of Rest and Relaxation

by byebyebluejay



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Comfort No Hurt, Fluffy, Hand Jobs, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Jim is still sort of an ass, M/M, My First Smut, No Plot/Plotless, Spa Day, or as fluffy as mormor can get
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-26
Updated: 2016-08-26
Packaged: 2018-08-11 02:39:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7872805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/byebyebluejay/pseuds/byebyebluejay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sebastian has been getting a bit burnt out. Jim takes matters into his own hands to ensure that his favorite sniper remains content and in top form.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Art of Rest and Relaxation

It was rare that Jim was in a doting mood. He was a busy man, and among the many reasons he kept Sebastian so close to his side was the fact that Sebastian was willing to devote massive amounts of time and effort to ensuring that Jim was comfortable and happy. But sometimes the day struck him right, and he had been putting Sebastian through his paces recently. Sebastian’s exhaustion was easy to gauge, even in writing. Most days, the man was uncomplaining and flirtatious in his text messages. Quick to joke. But the past few days, his increasing hesitance had not been lost on Jim. He liked his Tiger unflinchingly loyal and without bitterness, so it was time to draw him deeper into the fold again. It never took much to turn Sebastian all to sweetness—a compliment, a soft touch, ordering takeaway—but he was in the mood to go beyond the bare minimum. 

Sebastian would be home in fifteen minutes. A long time ago—a year or so ago—he had bought Sebastian a robe after his sniper had walked out of the bathroom stark naked and treated he and his brother to an eyeful. Jim had never seen him wear it, but it was deliciously soft. He hung it on the bathroom door before moving into the kitchen to put a bottle of Gewürztraminer on ice and carry it and two glasses into the bathroom as well. Then he stoppered the tub and started the hot water, listening to the gush as he poked through his own bath supplies. Most were practical rather than recreational, but he did remove a small glass bottle of lavender oil. Holding the little bottle over the water, he began adding drops. The beads burst into the water, and at once the sweet, soothing scent was rising into the air. Jim breathed it, and let his shoulders relax. He was going to have such fun tonight. 

When the tub was full, Jim stopped the flow and went to the bedroom to arrange things there. He was just setting out the massage oil when he heard the front door open, followed by Sebastian’s steps. Tired—Jim could tell by the gait. 

“Sebby, darling,” He called into the hall, “Come to the bathroom, will you? I have a surprise.” He could hear Sebastian’s low sigh. Generally speaking, Jim’s surprises did involve death, chaos or injury of some sort, so he couldn’t exactly blame the sniper for his reluctance, but he frowned none the less, momentarily considering banishing the nice evening he had prepared for them in a brief, hot fit. But he wasn’t that fickle. “Be good for me,” He added, though he could already hear Sebastian’s footsteps approaching, “It’s a nice surprise.”

Jim beat Sebastian to the bathroom by just a couple seconds. When he entered, Jim smiled up at him from his perch on the side of the tub. Sebastian’s eyes warmed at once, scanning over Jim and the bathroom alike.

“What’s this, kitten?” 

“Your surprise,” Jim answered, lips curling in a smile, “I do sometimes have good surprises. A little bird told me you’ve been having a difficult week.” Sebastian laughed at that, running a hand over his brow. He did look tired, Jim noted. His eyes were less bright than they usually were, shaded by dark circles. His stubble was more than a few days old, and he had lost five to seven pounds in the last three weeks. It didn’t suit him. 

“We’re going to play spa?” 

“Don’t pretend you’re not pleased, Tiger,” Jim said, putting enough chilly warning into his voice that Sebastian would know better than to press on, “Or I’ll take away your treat.”

Sebastian shut up at once, and Jim rewarded him with a smile. He got up, moving to stand in front of Sebastian—so close he could feel his heat and the faint draft of breath against his cheek. He slid his hands over his sniper’s shoulders, marvelling at the strong bones and dense, lean musculature. His fingers drifted along Sebastian’s collarbone to stroke his chest through his shirt, just above where his heart was. Sebastian’s pulse was fifteen beats per minute above his usual. Jim turned his eyes up towards the other’s face and felt himself warm at the enraptured look the man wore. He could stop now, if he wanted to. His goal had been achieved. Sebastian would not think about complaining for days now. But something about rubbing scented oil into Sebastian’s skin didn’t sound so terrible. 

“Let me help you undress, Tiger.” Sebastian allowed himself to be manipulated like a doll as Jim pulled off his shirt to expose his broad chest, crossed by old and new scars. Tiger stripes. Jim’s fingers traced along them: curious though he had explored Sebastian’s skin many times before. “Have I told you you’re beautiful, Bastian?” Sebastian chuckled.

“You have. But I don’t mind hearing it again.” Jim flashed a smile, dark and carnivorous, and went onto his toes to kiss the corner of Sebastian’s mouth.

“What am I going to do with you, sweet Tiger?” 

“Are you looking for suggestions?”

“No. I’ve already decided.” Jim undid Sebastian’s belt, not bothering to take it out of the belt loops before he undid the button and zip of Sebastian’s trousers, pushing them down over his narrow hips so that Sebastian stood naked except for his boxers. 

“Camo, Sebastian? Really?”

“I know you love a military man. Sometimes I think you forget I was a colonel. Don’t these help jog your memory?”

“You are my chief of staff, first and foremost. That’s how I like you. And my chief of staff doesn’t wear novelty pants.” 

“And yet here I am. In novelty pants.” Jim grabbed the waistband and removed the boxers without ceremony. Sebastian grinned and leaned in close, lips brushing warm against his cheek as he murmured into his ear.

“Watch it kitten, or you might get me excited, and then all your preparations will go to waste.” Jim smiled at the threat, kissing Sebastian’s neck just an inch or so beneath his ear, feeling a sharp spike of delight as Sebastian shivered.

“Just get in the tub, Sebastian. Before I change my mind.” Sebastian obeyed, groaning as he sank into the steaming water. His eyes slid shut. It was thrilling to see Sebastian at rest. He was a man who, at his command, had broken spines and collarbones with his bare hands. But in repose, with his over-alert eyes closed, laying still so that Jim could not mark the predator’s grace that defined his movements—inhuman grace, given his size—he seemed almost harmless. Still powerful, but no so unique from any other soldier or sportsman. Jim was satisfied too that he had selected bath oils instead of soap. Like this, he could admire Sebastian’s long calves and strong thighs, his firm stomach, his cock. Jim lowered himself to his knees beside the tub, leaning over the edge so he could massage Sebastian’s shoulders, kneading the muscles firm and slow.

“How is the bath?”

“Fucking hell, Jim,” Sebastian murmured, “Really fucking nice. Will this scent stick to me after I get out?” Jim hummed an affirmative response. 

“For a few hours.”

“Good. I like it. What is it? Lavender?” 

“Yes.” Sebastian took in a deep, slow breath. Jim’s attention drifted to his scars again, tracing a fingernail along one.

“It’s so tempting to just cut these open again,” He mused, imagining blood welling to the surface of the long-healed marks, “Recreate the moments I missed.”

“Most of them weren’t as remarkable as the ones you’re involved in.”

“No, I guess they wouldn’t be,” Jim said, “But I can’t resist the thought of you, sweating, bloody, in your uniform. Feral with pain and rage and bloodlust.” Sebastian laughed, eyes opening again as he looked across at Jim. 

“It wasn’t as sexy as you seem to think it was.” Sebastian could be such a wet blanket sometimes. Jim scowled, fingers drifting down Sebastian’s chest.

“It was exciting, though.”

“Sometimes.”

“Spoilsport.” Sebastian chuckled.

“Sorry, kitten. If it’s any consolation, it means you’re that much better by comparison.” Jim didn’t even pause to consider the action that followed. He flicked a hand out to deftly slap Sebastian’s cheek—not with the whole of his strength by any means, but enough to sting. The sniper exploded in laughter, which was somehow both obnoxious and endearing. 

“Don’t even suggest I’m better only by default.” Sebastian turned his face into Jim’s hand, kissing his palm. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Jim.” His cheek bore a pink mark, but otherwise Sebastian didn’t even seem ruffled. Jim expected as much from him—particularly now that he had been put in a good mood. That was a satisfying enough response. Picking up the flexible showerhead, Jim turned on the water again before beginning to wet his hair. Sebastian went slack under his fingertips as he massaged his scalp and played with his hair. He didn’t do more than that, though. Sebastian generally showered after his morning runs, and Jim saw no reason to try and make something frivolous practical. They drank two glasses of wine each. Then, once Sebastian seemed utterly relaxed, Jim put away the showerhead and squeezed Sebastian’s shoulder. 

“Get up, Tiger.” Sebastian stood, shoulders slack, water beading on his chest and arms. His fingers were wrinkled from the water, but he looked beautiful none the less. Jim unstoppered the bathtub then rose to retrieve Sebastian’s bathrobe, draping it around his shoulders and half-guiding Sebastian’s arms into the sleeves. Leaving the robe open, Jim towel-dried Sebastian’s legs and feet before guiding him out of the bathroom and into the master bedroom. Sebastian’s eyes crinkled into a smile when he saw the towel laid out on the bed and the bottle of massage oil.

“How shady is the massage parlour you’re running, Jim?” Of course that would be the first thing to spring to Sebastian’s mind.

“You’re looking for a happy ending?”

“Isn’t everyone?” It was a terrible play on the double meaning. Jim rolled his eyes and turned to pour a few teaspoons of sweet oil onto his palms, rubbing them together to warm it. 

“Try not to be an idiot and you might get a handjob.” Sebastian shrugged off his robe and crossed the room to lie down on the towel, head resting in his arms. 

“Don’t pretend you don’t want to, kitten. You’ve made your feelings about my dick very clear.”

“Shut up,” Jim snapped back, but without any real heat. There were times Sebastian’s self-assuredness was charming. He’d let him slide this time without retaliation. He clambered onto the bed, straddling Sebastian’s waist. His oil-slicked hands hovered for a moment above Sebastian’s back as Jim considered where to start. At last, he put his hands down on either side of Sebastian’s spine, between his shoulder blades. The heels of his hands glided in firm circles over Sebastian’s shoulders then down, thumbs massaging the muscles along Sebastian’s spinal column. The man’s skin was hot from the bath, though he ran warm anyway, and Jim delighted at the changes in texture; the patterning of scars beneath his fingertips. He knew the stories associated with every one, and his imagination provided illustration as he noted each. There was a place where a broken bottle had sunk in above his kidney. There was a spot a bullet had grazed his shoulder. On the nape of his neck, a cigarette burn, courtesy of Lord Augustus Moran. Together they told a story of fallen grace, suffering, death, and battlehunger that belonged to precious few people. It was one of the things that made Sebastian special. Jim took his time, even after Sebastian had all but melted into the bed, stroking, unknotting muscles, exploring, refreshing the oil periodically. But after his neck started to get sore from leaning over the sniper, Jim straightened up and shifted over to rest on his knees beside the man.

“Roll onto your back, Bastian.” Sebastian groaned into his forearm and didn’t shift. “Or would you like me to stop here?” Sebastian grunted again, but that time he complied, settling on his back, studying Jim with tired eyes.

“Shit, kitten. That was nice. I might sleep well tonight.” Jim smiled slyly at him, leaning in to give him a lingering, chaste kiss.

“We’re not done yet, darling, remember?” A spark relit in Sebastian’s eyes.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Mmm-hm. Just relax.” Jim placed a hand low on Sebastian’s stomach, just resting it there for the moment, idly stroking at the trail of hair that began just below the man’s belly button. Sebastian did as he was told, closing his eyes again and taking a long breath. Jim let his attention move lower, one hand propped against Sebastian’s chest as he took the man’s cock in his other. Like this, Jim could feel Sebastian’s chest rise in a great breath, ribs arching beneath his palm. He was already half hard, and in contrast to Sebastian’s scarred back, the skin was velvet soft and warmer still. Jim began with a few languid strokes, smiling at the rumbling purr that rose in Sebastian’s chest, studying his face. Not in memory had Sebastian looked so relaxed, and in some ways, that was satisfying. He liked his sniper razor sharp, but to know he had the power to undo him with pleasure like this was very rewarding. Jim tightened his grip somewhat as Sebastian grew hard, tracing his thumb over the head at every upstroke, massaging the little ridge just below it.

“Fuck, Jim,” Sebastian murmured, hips hitching up into Jim’s grip, until he pushed him down with his other hand—a firm reminder to stay still.

“I’m doing the work, darling. Just relax.” His fingernails pressed into the skin of Sebastian’s thigh, leaving pink crescent impressions behind. Sebastian groaned but fell still, and Jim relinquished him, moving his hand down to palm the delicate flesh of Sebastian’s balls instead; press a knuckle to his perineum and rub firmly.

“Shit.” There was a flush on his sniper’s cheek, and Jim could tell from the tension in his face and thighs that Sebastian wasn’t going to last much longer. Sebastian could be so very easy to play like this—such a physical, sensual, straightforward man in many ways. He cooed a soft, encouraging sound, twisting his hand around the shaft of Sebastian’s cock.

“Go on, Sebby. Come for me.” It didn’t take any more encouragement than that. Sebastian’s stomach muscles contracted, and the sniper muffled his moan with his teeth in the side of his hand. Jim worked him through it as a few ribbons of cum spilled over his hand and Sebastian’s belly, slowing as Sebastian took a shuddering breath, then releasing him entirely, watching his face with intent interest before reaching over to the bedside table to grab a tissue. 

“You’re so beautiful like this, Tiger. You look almost vulnerable.” Jim commented as he wiped first his hand, then Sebastian’s belly clean. The sniper chuckled breathlessly in response, and then rolled over. 

“If you like me like this, then you can throw me a spa day whenever you like. I won’t stay no.” 

“Oh, I think it’s my turn next,” Jim mused, “I’d like a nice Eiswein and dark chocolates, I think.” Sebastian laughed, and Jim started as a strong arm wrapped suddenly around his waist and dragged him down towards the mattress. Sebastian’s chest was pressed hot against him, and their lips crushed together in a rough, leisurely kiss.

“I think I can do that.”

“You had better.” 

“Cross my heart I will. Some other day. I’m fucking exhausted.”

“I could use some sleep. Turn the light off.” Sebastian reached over and switched the lamp off, casting the room into darkness. It had been the sniper who had received all the pampering that night, but all the same, listening to the man’s heartbeat thud slow and rhythmic in his ear, Jim too felt at ease. Sebastian was his, the night was quiet, and at some point in the near future he was confident he would also be receiving a spa night of his own. His quick-running mind was unusually still and, within minutes of Sebastian’s breathing going shallow and soft, Jim too fell asleep.


End file.
